


Competitive Nature Killed the Cat (But Unlikely Teachers Brought it Back)

by Beanwhile



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Awkward Kissing, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Pre-Canon, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:11:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanwhile/pseuds/Beanwhile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cenred and Uther agree to hold negotiations in king Rodor's castle in Nemeth. Arthur, sixteen at the time, has a private encounter with Cenred and sees for himself just how <i>frustrating</i> dealing with the king of Essetir can be, in every possible sense of the word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Competitive Nature Killed the Cat (But Unlikely Teachers Brought it Back)

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged as Underage just to be on the safe side.

                Arthur took a sharp turn and hurled himself against the first door that came into view. It flung open under the force of his attack and he barged in, swung it close, trying his best not to bang it and make noise (but his heart was beating so hard against his chest and his lungs were so desperate for breath he couldn’t do a thing for his own stillness, was there any point in worrying about the door?). He glued his back to the solid wood and turned his head to listen. On the other side he could hear muffled speech and hurried steps. No one approached the door however, and finally there was silence, save for the occasional servant walking by. King Rodor of Nemeth was a most generous host and he was going well out of his way to please both the Camelot and Essetir parties. Arthur had made a well-timed escape: one of his guards had turned his attention to a pretty serving girl with a plateful of food. It was understandable, given that Nemeth had access to the sea and the people knew how to prepare seafood. Arthur had used the moment and dashed off.

                “Children are not allowed to run in the corridors,” a voice announced. Arthur jumped and looked around, afraid he might have barged into some place he shouldn’t be. In the middle of the room, a tall man was leaning against a huge table, chewing on an apple.

                “I’m not a _child_ , Cenred.” Arthur bristled. The king of Essetir had been a thorn in his father’s side since forever and Arthur had felt it his duty to be ill disposed towards the man. With a remark like that, however, it wasn’t going to take much to make the grudge personal. “I’m sixteen,” he added. Sixteen was not an age to be called a child.

                “And that’s _king_ Cenred for you.” Cenred swallowed the last morsel of fruit and sucked on the fingers that had held it. His tongue extended to lick the glistening trails of juice on the skin.

                That little demonstration, aside from making Arthur feel uncomfortable, had a very negative effect on his breeches. Uther had gladly agreed to hold negotiations with the difficult Cenred on a friendly territory such ad Nemeth. Even surrounded by such favourable conditions, however, his father was not about to let his guard down; he had posted guards even in front of Arthur’s privy. It left the latter with exactly no places to take care of some… basic needs. Denied his relief, Arthur even avoided spending time with the princess Mithian (who was so kind and gracious and yet he could think of nothing else but the way her dress hugged her chest and hips and _goodness_ , _Arthur_ , get a grip on yourself, you’re the _worst_ guest ever). To make it worse, the castle was bustling with many other pretty girls (and alas, pretty boys).

                Cenred wasn’t _pretty_ , though. He was taller than everyone and his long wavy hair was prone to becoming a long wavy mess. Arthur disliked the way Cenred’s pretty lips were quick to pout in mocking, and the curve between them when he flirted with whoever paid attention to him. Least of all Arthur liked the evenings, when Cenred had drunk enough wine to feel hot. The king of Essetir unfastened the strings of his top and let the leather spread until it revealed the hair on his chest. Arthur was curious how thick it was and how much it covered (the nipples? The belly? Arthur shuddered in embarrassment every time he caught himself trying to picture Cenred’s naked torso, and it hadn’t been just once or twice in the last week), all from a purely… well… he was curious, but that was it. He had only recently begun to grow some semblance of a moustache, and his chest refused to sprout anything but peach-soft light hairs. Not that he was jealous of Cenred; Cenred was a full-grown man, bodily at least. He was also a king, which _did_ make Arthur feel jealous because they didn’t have more than ten summers apart in age.

                “Do you find me very pleasing to look at?” Cenred’s voice startled Arthur and pulled him back in the present moment. His skin crawled with ants and his face grew hot from the embarrassment. Least of all things he wanted for Cenred to catch him staring.

                “Don’t be ridiculous, Cenred.” Arthur glared at the man. It gave him pleasure to disrespect Cenred like that, ignoring his title. “Your unkempt face is nothing nice to look at,” he added.

                Cenred tilted his head and ran his fingers up his neck and over his jawline with a lopsided smile. “You mean this?” he laughed. “The ladies find it irresistible. When you start growing your own you’ll understand.” Cenred dropped his hand back on the table and had the audacity to wink at Arthur. The latter was seething with humiliation.

                “Nonsense!” Arthur lowered his gaze and shifted his weight. No sword swayed at his hip – as a rule neither of the negotiating parties was allowed to keep arms on them while on castle grounds, even the guards. Cenred too, was missing the swords he carried on his back. Without the thick leather bands crossing on his chest his neck revealed – _again_ – a very inappropriate amount of skin (or at least Arthur found it inappropriate and unnecessary teasing, like some of _Morgana’s_ dresses). The poorly tied strings annoyed him. His father would never let _him_ look so dishevelled. Cenred was simply insufferable. Especially when he snorted in mockery, like he just did.

                “Hah! What do you know about women? You haven’t even dreamed of kissing one.”

                “I’ve kissed _plenty_ of people, Cenred,” Arthur lied with a grim determination. He couldn’t let Cenred best him in everything. There was no way the king of Essetir could know about Arthur’s private matters. It was safe to bend the truth a bit.

                “People you say?” Cenred narrowed his almond eyes. Arthur shifted his weight again under that unblinking gaze. “I find it hard to believe Arthur _Pendragon_ brings men to his bed.”

                “I don’t have to discuss what goes on in my bed with you, Cenred!” Arthur snapped. He squeezed and bunched the fabric of his mantle, itching for the sword he didn’t have. He could easily bring Cenred on his knees, press the tip of his blade against the man’s adam apple, not all the way but just enough to draw a bit of blood…

                “That’s _king_ Cenred,” the man corrected him. His smile faded and he closed and opened his eyes. He leaned back on the table, propping himself on his arms. Arthur didn’t know of a sure way to attract ladies but if – _strictly theoretically speaking_ – he was a girl he would’ve at least considered straddling Cenred while the latter was assuming his current (overly inviting) pose. “Please, prove me wrong then. Come and kiss me.” Cenred licked his lips in invitation.

                Arthur was scandalized. “ _Kiss_ you? Don’t be _stupid_!”

                “You’re that bad at it?” Cenred tilted his head and made a sympathetic face. Arthur wanted to stomp over and silence him for good – maybe not with a kiss but perhaps a solid slap, negotiations be damned.

                “I’m a prince,” Arthur reminded him. “I’m good at everything I do.”

                “Especially talking your way out of battles already lost,” Cenred mocked him.

                Arthur hesitated. What was the worst that could possibly happen?

                His father finding out about it, killing Cenred with his bare hands, then grounding Arthur to his chambers forever. Well, at least Cenred wouldn’t be a problem anymore.

                Arthur let go of his mantle and took a step towards the table, then another and another, until he had walked over to the king of Essetir. The man stood up from the table, and was practically towering. He was so tall his shadow completely engulfed Arthur, who had to tilt his head back just to look Cenred in the eyes. The king smelled of leather and resin, and his eyes were darker, the look in them – more dangerous than ever. Arthur had the sudden urge to run his hands all over everything that he found terrible about Cenred.

                Cenred’s expression quickly melted into another (supposedly pleasant) smile. “Ah,”–he shook his head, and his wavy hair swayed,–“I forget you’re a child.” He sat back on the table, this time a bit hunched over to make his lips available to Arthur.

                “Do you kiss many children then, _king_ Cenred?” Arthur clipped, buying himself some time. Kisses were simply pressing your lips to the other person’s, right? It shouldn’t be that hard.

                Cenred guffawed; bowed his head and slapped the table with his hand. “No,” he said finally, the word squeezed between two chuckles, “I’m not interested in children. But you insist that you’re a grown man, which I still doubt.”

                He raised his gaze and looked Arthur dead in the eye. Arthur hurried to move _his_ gaze down. Cenred’s lips were red and curvy; they seemed very kissable this close. Arthur felt a tug of wanting, but immediately after a cold wave went through his body, like a splash of icy water, and he felt twice as nervous.

                Arthur closed his eyes and kissed Cenred. It was just as awkward and clumsy as he had feared it would be; he must’ve closed his eyes too soon and aimed too bad, for what he felt under his lips was most probably the corner of Cenred’s mouth. There was not enough warm flesh and too much prickly hairs; Arthur drew back and repeatedly ran his teeth over his lips, desperate to kill the itchy feeling.

                To his terror, Cenred seemed amused. He was sucking in his lower lip, then letting it go again, and the flesh was growing redder and redder. “That was awful,” he commented.

                “As if you could do better,” Arthur shot before he could stop himself.

                Even with all his training Arthur couldn’t have anticipated Cenred’s movement. The man put his hands on Arthur’s hips and reversed their positions in a heartbeat. “Of course I can,” he countered with his usual arrogance.

He brought his face close to Arthur’s, so close Arthur could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin. He shivered; felt displeased to realize there was a sort of anticipation aching in his chest. He was simply using Cenred for things no one was going to teach him, he told himself, why not use the opportunity to its fullest?

                Cenred tilted his head and half-closed his eyes. Arthur’s gaze fell on the man’s eyelashes, but it was too close to eye contact; opted for tracing Cenred’s long nose instead and the terrible red lips that were causing him nothing but trouble for the past… whatever time he spent with the Essetir king in the room.

                The man blinked – a slow, devious movement – and put his hand on Arthur’s cheek. His fingertips slid further and reached to Arthur’s jaw and the sensitive flesh beneath his ear, then pulled Arthur in. Arthur couldn’t help but close his eyes again, and then in a second his lips met with Cenred’s. The king of Essetir was surprisingly tender, and his lips were so, so _soft_ ; his kiss was the total opposite of Arthur’s clumsy peck. Cenred withdrew, then pressed their lips together again, opening his mouth to kiss all that was Arthur’s lips, and it was the most natural thing for Arthur to kiss back, to demand more of Cenred’s mouth. Cenred’s skill made his body tingle with delight and his breeches tighten. Without thinking, he wrapped his arms around Cenred’s (stupid! ...stupid?) neck and pulled him close.

                Cenred let go of his face and shoved him down. He sandwiched Arthur between his body and the table and slammed his forearms on the sides of Arthur’s head, grinning. “The feud is as good as over if I simply take you for wife,” he chuckled.

                “Oh, shut up,” Arthur huffed; he planted his hands on Cenred’s scruffy cheeks and pulled him down, eager for more kisses. Cenred hummed in what was surely amusement (Arthur didn’t care at this point), but obliged the prince nonetheless. He slid one arm between their bodies and palmed Arthur’s hardness. Arthur’s hips bucked on their own and he grinded against the heel of Cenred’s palm. Pleasure spread through his body, but it was not enough, not nearly enough, he wanted more, _needed_ more, his cock was so hard and Cenred’s hand felt _divine_. He whined against Cenred’s mouth, shamelessly trying to press every single inch of himself against the king, desperate for the sweet headiness of his kisses, desperate for the increasing waves of pleasure his hand brought. It escalated so fast Arthur broke the kiss and threw his head back when his pleasure peaked, grinded mindlessly against Cenred, who was so kind as to rub him in all the right ways to prolong his climax.

                For a few moments everything was bliss and pleasure, mixed with the scent of leather and resin.

                The sudden slump of his body surprised Arthur. Had he been so tense? His limbs felt weak and he hadn’t the strength to even move, let alone untangle himself from Cenred. The king took hold of Arthur’s chin and turned his head to the side. He placed a hot, wet kiss beneath Arthur’s ear; the feather touch of his tongue made the prince shudder and groan with desire. “It’s a real shame your father won’t hand you over. You can be amusing when you’re not talking.”

                Arthur pressed a hand against Cenred’s chest in a weak attempt to push him away but he couldn’t bring himself to actually push, so his hand just stood there. The leather was so smooth to the touch he kind of wanted to run both his hands all over it. “Don’t be stupid,” he muttered. His father was unwilling to go to Essetir even with an armed escort, let alone allow his only son to go there. Arthur was even forbidden from patrol near the border.

                Cenred placed a chase kiss on Arthur’s adam apple and gently (gently?) untangled himself from the prince’s limbs, after which he took to straightening his own clothes. Arthur turned on his side and followed his movements with his eyes, completely unwilling to get up from the table. Was the king of Essetir hard as well, or was he (Arthur swallowed) well-endowed and the leather left only so little to the imagination?

                Cenred ran his fingers through his hair and grinned at Arthur. “We should try this again, beautiful,” he said.

                Arthur frowned, unable to think of a comeback. The wet blot on his breeches was quickly growing cold and uncomfortable. Cenred raised his eyebrows at him as a farewell and turned to leave the room. Arthur watched him go, the round ass, the long legs, and was terrified and pleased with what had just happened.


End file.
